


After Hours

by storm_queen



Category: The Pirates' Mixed-Up Voyage - Margaret Mahy
Genre: Burglary, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_queen/pseuds/storm_queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Employees of Silkweed's Academy are expected to commit the occasional after-hours act of villainy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morbane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbane/gifts).



Hermione Hatchett, for all of her qualifications, had little interest in burglary, prison breakouts, and the occasional kidnapping spree. She was much more concerned with the study of great literature, and, as a secondary passion, the molding of young minds to encourage a love for the written word. Still, her job at the Silkweed Academy required the occasional evening of corrupt activities, and she couldn’t put it off forever without incurring consequences. So she found herself fleeing from Island Six Hundred and Eighty-Three in the dead of night, in a small speedboat steered by Thomas Sump.

“I was _not_ ,” she said emphatically, firing a shot from her pistol into the ocean for emphasis, “warned that there would be piranha.”

Thomas Sump cast her a glance of concern and admiration, but mostly, she thought, admiration. “You weren’t bit, were you?” he asked.

“ _Bitten,_ Thomas!” she cried sharply, before giving her answer. “No. I am more than capable of handling a few piranha. But I am taking a firm stand, and I will not participate in any further illicit activities unless I am given a firm understanding of the possible hazards and booby traps.”

She sheathed her saber rather grandly, and removed the package tucked underneath her left arm. It was a grubby, disgusting rag of some sort, balled up in a corner of the vault, but it had served her well in cushioning the artifact she had been sent to retrieve.

“What did you get, if you don’t mind me asking?” Thomas Sump asked. “Only I never realized the banking island had anything but money on it.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “There are also bank vaults, Thomas,” she explained, “wherein the people of Hookywalker keep their valuables. This particular item comes from the vault of Hugo Stroganoff.”

“Not Hugo Stroganoff, the world famous goat trainer?” Thomas Sump said, impressed.

“One and the same.” She let the cloth fall open, revealing the gleaming ceramic inside. “Formerly in possession of the last sculpture of Mariah Clout, _The Pale Artichoke._ ”

“What does Dr. Silkweed want with that?” Thomas Sump asked, staring transfixed at the glimpse of artichoke and very nearly missing a collision with the pier of Island Fourteen.

Hermione waved a hand irritably. “A wedding present for his sister, I think. Personally, I think the artichoke is a useless vegetable. But the Hookywalker police will be on the lookout for the artichoke by the time we make port. We’ll have to stick it in the After-Hours Orphan Slot at the Deadlock Orphanage.”

“We don’t want it to break in the drop,” Thomas Sump said doubtfully, looking at the sculpture instead of the boat once again.

“Mind your steering, Thomas!” Hermione warned, and he jerked guiltily back to attention. “The After-Hours Orphan Slot has a padded base, so that none of the deposits are harmed too much. But we’ll keep it wrapped in this… towel… to be safe.” She rolled the sculpture up again tightly, and they continued the voyage in relative silence, marked only by the occasional longing glance Thomas sent her way.

But she was a Doctor of Literature, and she had no time for the romantic imaginings of a piano mover, even if he did manage to sew a beautiful buttonhole. The sooner they dropped off _The Pale Artichoke,_ the sooner she would be able to go home and begin poring over the latest editions of Silkweed Academy Granulated Readers, ensuring no grammatical errors were to be found. So she ignored the long-suffering sigh as Thomas Sump dropped her off at the edge of the Hookywalker docks, just a short walk from the Deadlock Orphanage.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Thomas,” she said. “Try to keep yourself out of trouble until then.” Thomas was, after all, prone to remarkable lapses in judgment when left to his own devices, with the oily Dr. Silkweed making untenable demands. 

“If only I had someone to help me to keep out of trouble,” Thomas Sump began, but Hermione’s boots were already navigating the streets of Hookywalker, determined to conclude her dalliance with dark deeds and return to her eminently respectable daily life.


End file.
